Lakis Papastatis was (as he liked to introduce himself) “a director of the New Greek cinema who loved European cinema and Greek literature”. He was witty, cooperative, but above all adamant about spiritual matters. On this issue, he did not back down. As a “man of the old principles” he asked for change from everyone who questioned, even jokingly, art, Greekness, authenticity. Especially the last one. Like a hound, he smelled the so-called calpico and rushed after him. He was often misunderstood due to his attitude, and many sensitive people interpreted his sharp tongue as aggressive behavior. Nothing in common. He spoke Greek well and deliberately kept to a slow, staccato rhythm. As if cutting the impulse of the word with the knife of criticism. He played between iambic, trochee and calm.

Lakis was many. Where does it fit?

It was a contemplative movie. He taught us that directing is everything that is outside the frame, not the content of the frame. That’s why he rarely spoke in cinematic terms. He taught us that the choice of an actor and artistic partners, the preparation of a role, the choice of location, light, costume, objects, empty space, horizon, soil were parts of the great “Symphony”, designed to turn the thoughts and feelings of the viewer to contemplation. Therefore, he always demanded that there be a certain ritual in the shooting. Respect, silence, calm movements. This created a temporary gap between “ready” and “engine”. This priestly training pervaded every shoot, whether it was a movie or a TV show. Montage, on the other hand, was a wild state of constant struggle. During editing, he screamed with delight when the editing managed to reunite the fragmented reality of filming. Otherwise, he will persist until “final collapse” (in his own words), until he exhausts all possibility of a smooth transition from one frame to another, that is, from one idea to another.

It was good public television. I met him in the mid-80s, a mature director and producer of the TV show Backstage. Together with Takis Hatsopoulos, they founded Cinetic and served as the culture’s most exemplary television show for decades. For more than 30 years, he represented the Greek public of cultural and artistic figures. C. Cone, M. Anagnostakis, M. Cumantareas, G. Ioannou, Al. Kotzias, K. Castoriadis. K. Axelos, D. Sotiriou, Al. Damianos and many others stood in front of the show’s camera. His production company (Great School of Kinds) employed many NEC directors who, through these short films, expressed their own cinematic interests, but also practiced the profession of filmmaker, a labor luxury in the harsh television landscape of the 1980s decades. -1990. With the directors of Backstage, Papastatis was strict and demanding. After each episode was shown, there was harsh criticism of the frame, editing, pauses, and music. Nothing escaped his scowl, which flared up when he watched a TV show or a movie.

It was modern Greek literature. Modern Greek literature was a secret chamber from which he drew personal emotions, measure, ideas for his films and texts. Vizinos, Papadiamantis, Mitsakis were his own Greece. He hunted down minor writers and stories hidden in literary magazines of the 19th and early 20th centuries. This connected him with the history of Greece more than the great events of official history. For endless hours, with study and seriousness, he talked with his friend and collector G. Zevelakis about a short-lived magazine on various topics, as if they were discussing a close friend who had just returned from a long trip. Since 2002, he has published four collections of short stories. Like short films that were never made. He also drew other stories. In his mind. Indomitable.

Vizinos, Papadiamantis, Mitsakis were his own Greece.

It was a look at modern Greek painting. His passion for painting has grown in recent decades. Surprisingly, not at the time when the film “Theophilus” was filmed. Although in the preparation of that film, he began to train his eyes on a static “frame”. I remember him on the set of Behind the Scenes with Facianos, Speranza or Fidakis, silently watching the brush and suddenly shooting at the painter with a short direct question, trying not to interfere with the moment. The questions he asked were usually about himself as a director. As a result of his association with many box makers, several portraits of him, perhaps more than 100 portraits, have emerged in recent years, which he wanted to exhibit and then donate to the National Gallery. This exhibition will be accompanied by videos, photographs and his own commentary. The thoughts that swirled in his head for endless hours as he posed for Rorris, Makris or Daskalakis.

It was a lively, combative critical thought. He never said anything expected, banal or clichéd about the creator. Either it was Carl Dreyer, whom he adored, or Theodoros Angelopoulos, whom his interlocutors adored. Himself a lover of oral tradition, its collector and researcher, he managed to turn the thought, passion and chemistry of the moment into an oral work. Being also a “follower” of some painful principles of art and life, he liked to wrestle with other followers as a noble sport that supported the idea of ​​competition. We will probably miss him more than Lakis Papastati.

Papastatis is a poet. His multifaceted work will be recorded and studied in the future. He left behind many students, although he never taught at a film school. A conversation with him, with a baileys with ice in a glass, was worth the master class. We laughed a lot, got angry a lot and learned a lot. At the end of the night, on the way home, we asked ourselves: “Is this talent?”. I don’t know. This is character.

* Ms. Katherine Evangelicou – Director.